


Two Wrongs

by paperstorms



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blood, Bottom Josh, Climbing Class, Dark Josh, During Canon, Extremely Dubious Consent, Guns, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Oral Sex, Power Bottom, Power Play, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Smut, Spoilers, Violence, What-If, crazy Josh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 18:52:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4888054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperstorms/pseuds/paperstorms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things would go a little differently if Mike and Sam hadn’t shown up to untie Chris and Ashley when they did. (Takes place during the events of the game)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Wrongs

**Author's Note:**

> My first UD fanfiction so feedback is super duper appreciated. Please do not post anywhere without my permission (a direct link to this is okay but do not claim as your own).
> 
> (previously uploaded on my tumblr at: http://nyxrising.tumblr.com)

The barrel of the gun is cold against Chris’ throat. It smells of oil, freshly greased, primed for this moment. His teeth are clenched tight, his breath hissing with every heave of his chest. Chris can’t close his eyes; he wants to, but he needs Ashley to be the last he sees before he puts a bullet in his skull.

“Wait, stop!” Ashley’s voice trembles, her lips shaking as she tugs helplessly against the plastic ties holding her in her chair. “You can’t do it Chris, it should be me.”

He swears his heart drops into the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t hesitated for a second to put the pistol to his own head when he’d heard what they were being asked to do. Chris presses it closer, wanting to feel the ring of the muzzle on his skin; he needs to know this is real. 

“You chose to save me before,” She tries to reason.

“Oh fuck,” he curses. His decision is absolute, has to be, he won’t let Ashley die for him. Not after the barn. The roaring blades above them crawl ever closer, spitting fiery sparks as they spin, like wild animals gnashing at their prey.

“Let me choose, let me choose to save you,” Ashley pleads with him, her blue eyes wet with tears, her expression flush with desperation. “If I do one last thing in my life, let me do this!”

But he can’t. He’s already given up Josh for her. He’s sent his best friend to the slaughter for this tiny, defenceless redhead in front of him, shaking with fear as she fights against her bound wrists. Around and around his head, two words are swimming, ‘why me?’; Why does he have to be the one to choose who lives and who dies? Because of him, Josh is dead already.

Josh is _dead_ ; Chris knows he deserves a bullet in his head for that. He should die for what he’s done and beautiful, innocent Ashley - his Ashley - should survive. He cocks the gun.

“Chris, please!” Ashley weeps, squeezing her eyes shut. The sound of the saws above them is so loud it threatens to drown out his thoughts. “Oh god…”

A dark thought enters his mind.

What happens next?

If he eats a bullet, what happens to Ashley? She’s sobbing, shaking her head, traumatized and helpless. Her jacket is soaked through with the blood of their closest friend and her face is mess of black and blue. Chris knows there’s no way she’d survive another one of these trials without him there; they’ve no idea what else is in store for the survivor. If he were to live and her to die, maybe he’d have a chance to make it out of here, find the others -

“No…” She whimpers, her whole body shuddering. Sparks fly past her head. There’s surely only seconds left. “Oh god…”

_I’m sorry, Ashley._

He can’t do it. He throws the gun down on the table. If they die, they die together.

Ashley opens her eyes, stares right at him, shaking her head in disbelief as she realizes what he’s done.

“I can’t decide. I can’t decide!” He yells at her, desperately wanting her to understand. Chris wants to hold her tight and tell her it’ll be over soon, but all he can do is stretch his hand uselessly over the table towards her.

She screams, turning her eyes up at the blade as it reaches her.

The lights go down.

Chris and Ashley are thrown into near darkness, nothing but silhouettes and dust between them, illuminated only by the dull emergency light on the basement floor and the blinking eye of a nearby camera. The roar turns to a quiet whirring, the sound of mechanics clanking as the two saw blades are lifted away from them.

They’re alive. He wishes he could cry out in celebration but he’s too much of a wreck; his hand slides off the table, hanging defeated at his side.

Surviving is not a triumph. It’s all he can do not to think about what’s coming next.

Eventually, it’s all still. Chris’ breathing and Ashley’s broken whimpers are the only sounds, save a few distant pangs from somewhere outside the room. He wonders absently if Sam is still alive, and if Matt and Emily got the cable car working. Perhaps they were already halfway down the mountain getting help.  
It feels like an eternity that they wait, but it gives him time to clear his head and get back in the game. If they can get out of the ties, Chris knows they’re in a better place than they were before. They’ve got a gun, and he’s got a good idea about where they are in the web of tunnels they weaved through looking for Sam. He might not be strong, or practical, but years of video games have prepped him for this moment. Chris starts fumbling with his free hand, trying to loosen the ties.

_I’ve got this under control._

The spotlight explodes into life above their heads, blinding him momentarily. Heavy footsteps echo around the dusty room, and as he blinks, he comes face to face with an image straight out of a nightmare.

Walking right at them, blood splattered up his overalls, is the psychopath. His creepy white mask glows in the cold light, yellow teeth bulging out of it’s mouth, blackened eyes staring right into his own. He’s wounded, fresh blood dripping from the gory hole in his left shoulder, but it doesn’t slow his towering form and his every feature, from his greasy hair to his oily leather gloves seems oversized and monstrous.

“No! No, no, no, get away!” Ashley cries beside him, rocking her chair in an attempt to shimmy further back.

Chris doesn’t have time to think twice. He grabs the cocked gun and fires at the man - two shots, three - the sound cracking through the quiet and making his ears ring.

Nothing happens.

Stopping in his tracks, the man looks down at his undamaged chest and tutts. “Oh Chris…”

Looking down at the weapon, Chris’ jaw hangs open slightly in disbelief.

“Oh, Chris. Chris, Chris, Chris.”

“What the fuck?” His voice cracks under the dawning realization of what he’s holding; the prop gun suddenly feels unusually light in his hand, as if it’s taunting him. He looks up at the man, and he can feel the sweat running down his face.

“Oh, you’ve heard of blanks before,” his inhuman voice taunts. “I mean, really?”

He reaches up for his mask. Chris’ heart is in his throat; he’s so desperate to understand.

As the mask falls away, Chris has never been so unhappy to see Josh’s smirking face.

“Josh…?”

Tossing the mask aside, Joshua lets out a unhinged cackle that sends shivers down Chris’ spine. He walks around the table, eyeing up Chris and Ashley like they’re prizes at the fair. He’s so pleased with himself, it’s almost sickening.

Ashley’s face is struck with disbelief. She lets out a dry sob of desperation.

“What the hell, Josh…” Chris mutters weakly; he wishes he could scream it, but he can’t find the strength. He’ll never be able to wash the image of Josh getting sawn in half from his memory. His best friend’s usually cheeky grin looks pure evil in the half-light.

He stops beside Ashley and puts a gloved hand under her chin, lifting it up until their eyes meet.

“Wasn’t this fun?” He laughs dryly. “Don’t we just love pranks? Humiliating, terrifying pranks, right? Like the one played on my sister last year? Do you feel all those emotions they felt?”

Another sob racks through Ashley’s whole body. “Oh god, I’m sorry Josh, I’m sorry…”

Screwing up his face, Chris tugs on the ties. “I had nothing to do with that, Josh. Nothing!”

Snickering, Josh leans closer to Ashley, until she can feel his breath on her ear. Tears roll down her filthy cheeks, her face twisting in pain as she squeezes her swollen eye closed. Two gloved fingers stroke her damp cheek gently and Josh rests his head against hers. He locks eyes with Chris. “But your little girlfriend did, right?”

“Please, no…” Ashley whispers, craning her neck to stretch away from him. Josh digs his fingers in, pulling her closer again. She swallows hard. “Please, I get it, Josh. Don’t hurt me. It was just a stupid prank. We never meant for-”

“For what?” Josh barks at her, slamming his other hand down on the table. He grimaces, pain shooting up to his gory shoulder.

“Enough, Josh. Let us go,” Chris says firmly, reaching for his hand. The older boy snatches it away before Chris can touch him.

Shoving Ashley’s face away from himself hard, Josh reels away from the table. “It’s never going to be enough. My sisters are gone. Forever.”

Chris tries to reason, tries to tell him they all miss Hannah and Beth, but he knows it’s no good. The look in Josh’s eyes tells the story of a man gone mad with grief. Watching him pace, it’s all Chris can do to start trying to quietly break free, his mind working overtime for something to say to diffuse the situation. He wishes Ashley would stop crying, maybe help him out with his defence. He’s no good with words.

He wants to grab Josh and shake him, ask him why he’s done all this to him. He wasn’t even involved, and he’s no attorney. He doesn’t even know if he should really be defending the others.

Stopping behind Ashley’s chair, Josh hangs his head and eyes the two of them like pieces of meat. A plotting smile creeps onto his face, distorting his features until he’s as menacing as the mask he was wearing before.

“I was going to stick all this up online,” he admits, tutting to himself. His gloved hands fall onto Ashley’s shoulders and squeeze them roughly. “Thought we could make millions from the hits we’d get. Like a slasher movie for the internet generation.”

“You’re insane,” Ashley stutters. She cranes her neck to look up at him, catching his widening eyes just as he cracks a toothy grin at her.

“You two made quite a scene. Confessions of unrequited love? Sacrificing your best friend? I should have made that the bloody finale, don’t you think?” Josh’s hands slide up to Ashley’s throat. She jerks away from him, but he only grips tighter.

Chris grits his teeth. “Don’t do it, man. Are you off your fucking meds?”

“Ha!” Josh shouts, tightening his fingers around her neck. “You… Chris, you were going to be my hero. My star. You played the part so nicely until you put that fucking gun down and ruined everything.”

To everyone’s relief, he lets go of Ashley’s throat. She hunches her shoulders, trying to make herself as small as possible.

An uncomfortable silence sets in between them, as cogs turn in Josh’s head. He’s watching Chris like a bird stalking it’s prey, and he pretends he’s not trying to get free because he’s not confident Josh won’t attack him if anything else goes wrong in his best friend’s revenge plot. Ashley’s whole body sags in absolute defeat, her only movement an involuntary tremble, and the heaving of her chest as she tries to slow her breaths.

“I’m really disappointed in the both of you, honestly,” Josh says eventually, returning to his slow walk around the table. “I thought you might fuck at last, after the shed. You know, take comfort in each other? My movie needs a dirty scene.”

Chris scoffs in disgust, muttering to himself. “Are you kidding me?”

“I had hopes for Mike and Jessica, too. Something’s gone wrong with the cameras in the cabin. Shame. We’d probably all have enjoyed watching that.”

For the first time since they woke up here, Ashley gets a little of her fire back. Face twisted in revulsion, she spits at Josh. “You’re disgusting.”

“He’s sick, Ash,” Chris says firmly; it’s better not to escalate the situation again. “Don’t taunt him.”

She lets out a disbelieving laugh, but her eyes are still tired with fear and pain. “I can see that, Chris. Thanks for the freaking update.”

“Maybe,” Josh shrugs, laying both hands flat on the table and looking from one of them to the other. “Any more sick than what you did to my sisters? I had big plans for Jess and Mikey boy. S'shame. But a good movie’s gotta have a dirty scene, right? Who wants to go first?”

“We’re not going to have sex, Josh.”

“That much is clear,” Josh snickers. “Chris is too much of a pussy to make any moves on you, Ash. Do you know how long he’s liked you?”

“Stop it,” Chris snaps. “This is so unneccessary right now, dude. Just fucking let us go.”

Josh moves around Ashley’s chair, tangling his fingers in her hair and smelling it, his eyes locked on Chris as he does it. “He’s missing out too, right? Bet you’ve got a hot body under those stupid shorts you’re always wearing. Right?”

His hand is on Ashley’s thigh before Chris can realize what Josh is doing.

“Fucking stop it, Josh!” He yells, yanking his hand against the plastic tie, trying to force it free to no avail. “Don’t you touch her!”

Tensing up, Ashley squeezes her thighs together, clamped around Josh’s hand. Pressing his smug face into her shoulder, he brings his other hand around to her chest and pulls down the zipper on her blood-stained hoodie.

Ignoring Chris’ shouts, Josh presses his lips up against Ashley’s ear. “I know you’d rather I was Chris, but I’m sure by now you’d probably take anyone, right? Me, Mike… Sam?”

She shivers, jerking her head away from him. “Stop it. Stop it!”

Chris swallows hard, audibly, lips falling open as he helplessly watches his best friend fondling his would-be girlfriend. As if that wasn’t enough to burn him, the tears begin again, silently this time, rolling down her blood covered skin. 

“Wait,” he says, as calmly as he can muster. “Josh. Me first.”

Both of them look at him like he’s out of his mind, like they’re not in the middle of what’s going on. Josh snorts, smiles smugly at him. “Bit late to lay claim now, Christopher.”

“No,” Chris says again, more decisively this time. “You asked, ‘who wants to go first?’. I’m saying, me.”

Ashley whole face screws up, a confused mixture of revulsion and guilt. Chris can see it on her unmoving lips, an unspoken apology for saving her again, for throwing himself on the fire. He nods resolutely. He’s never been more confident in a decision in his life. There are some things he knows people can’t come back from and neither Ashley or Josh would ever come back from this.  
With an eyebrow raised, Josh retracts his hands from Ashley; slowly, like he’s wary of being betrayed. Chris keeps his lips pursed, eyes fixed on his best friend.

As Josh approaches, Chris feels that same stillness he did when the blades stopped spinning. He’s hyper aware of everything around them; of the dust particles floating in the air, glinting in the spotlight, of the scratch of mice or rats scurrying around somewhere deeper into the room, unbothered by the three of them. Mostly, he’s aware of the quiet - not just in their own silence, but in his mind. For the first time since they were messing with the spirit board, Chris feels his subconscious settle.

Josh pushes Chris’ chair out from the table a little, just enough to stand between it and him. He slides off his leather gloves, discarding them gently on the floor beside them. Fingers dancing along Chris’ jawline and lifting his head so they meet eyes, Josh’s expression is somehow softer, like he’s satisfied with the outcome of his game. Chris steadies his breathing, trying not to give any indication of how he’s feeling, in case it rubs Josh the wrong way. He puts a hand around Josh’s waist, resting it on the small of his back and pulling him closer.

A tan hand sinks into his hair and runs his blonde mess backwards. “If you’re sure,” Josh says, and it’s supposed to be smug, but he’s lost his edge. “Lead the way, Cochise.”

Nervously, Chris stretches his head up, until their lips are close enough for their breath to mingle. His tongue darts out, wetting his lips.

“You… you don’t have to do this,” Ashley interrupts hurriedly, just before he presses his lips up to Josh’s. “Chris, he should just… let us go. Josh, please.”

Josh’s head snaps around, a snarl on his lips.

 _Rubbing him the wrong way_. Chris sighs under his breath.

“Josh,” he says softly. “Come on, Preach. Let her go.”

“Why should I?”

“Please.”

Sniffing in amusement, Josh releases his hand from Chris’ hair. After some hesitation, he crosses back to Ashley. “The chief over there says, let you go. What do you think?”

Chris breathes a sigh of relief. Ashley nods, shrinking away from Josh. “Please, god, please.”

Staring right at her, he roots through one of his overall pockets, pulling out a small knife and flicking it open. Ashley’s breath catches in her throat as Josh holds it up, eyes trailing the length of the small blade. He shoots her a big grin and snaps the ties on her wrists. “Get the hell out of here.”

He leans on the table. Ashley gets up, taking three steps back as fast as she can. “What about Chris?”

Josh narrows his eyes a little, fingering the flick knife. Clearing his throat, Chris shakes his head at Ashley. His cracked voice betrays him. “Just… just go, okay? I’m fine. We’re just going to… talk this out. Okay?”

She finally gives up, nodding slowly at first, then more vigorously as she hurries to the door, as if confirming to herself more so than them that she’s okay. She casts a long glance in their direction as she steps out into the basement corridor.

“It was a _joke_!” Josh shouts after her, like he needs to reassure her. “You love pranks!”

“Josh…” Chris murmurs, wincing slightly at the thought of how much damage all this would do in the long run.

Turning back to him, Josh sits on the edge of the table. He stabs the knife into the wood beside him. Chris flinches; he can’t get a read on Josh’s erratic behaviour. “What did you want to ‘talk’ about, bud?”

“This, Josh. All of this. Why did you-”

“For the fame,” Josh cackles, leaning in close to Chris again. “Did I say we were done? I didn’t get my dirty scene.”

Gulping, Chris closes his eyes. “I thought-”

“Nope.”

The table legs scrape across the floor as Josh pushes off it and leans over the chair, his knee between Chris’ legs. One hand takes Chris’ free wrist, pinning it to the chair arm, the other sinking into his hair again. A reluctant grunt escapes Chris’ lips as Josh tugs on his locks. 

“Where were we?”

“Josh, we don’t have to…” Chris trails off as his eyes open, finding Josh’s face close to his. His expression is something of a snarl, a hungry animal.

“Did I fucking stutter, Chris?”

His hand flies free from Chris’ wrist, up to his neck, and grips tight. Coughing, Chris tries to push him off, but Josh’s lips come down on his so hard their teeth clash. His wet tongue pushes into Chris’ mouth, flicking across his own, and it’s all Chris can do not to choke.

Then, there’s a palm on his crotch. It’s rough, unwelcome, but he can’t avoid the twitch that runs through his body from the contact. He gives into the kiss a little to appease Josh, but it only seems to drive him further. His hand is lead up to Josh’s stomach, his fingers sliding across the damp fabric as they’re forced down to feel Josh’s growing erection; he shudders, wondering what he’s touching on those splattered overalls.

Rising away from the kiss, Josh steps back wiping his lips on the back of his hand. He struggles out of his top layers, revealing underneath just his vest and sweats. Chris chances a look down at his own hand, finding it stained red, and wipes it on his leg. He’s uncomfortable, but only because he feels so lost. He feels like he doesn’t know Josh at all, but something inside him tells him he has been avoiding his best friend’s demons for far too long, and he wants to face them, whatever that means.

The bulge in Josh’s sweats is much bigger out of the confines of the overalls. Chris tries not to look as Josh crawls into his lap, but he feels it press against his stomach.

“Camera’s still rolling,” Josh reminds him, just to be sure he doesn’t relax. Chris turns his head away. “What’s the matter Christopher? You volunteered for this.”

“Shut up,” Chris mumbles.

“You’re pathetic, do you know that?”

With both hands, Josh turns Chris back to face him, smiling down at him like nothing’s wrong. He pulls him into a kiss, and this time Chris doesn’t resist.  
Josh snickers to himself. “Bet you’re imagining I’m Ashley, huh? To think, we wouldn’t be doing this right now if you’d been enough of a man to bone her.”

“Seriously.”

“It’s alright. Think about her if you want to.” Pulling down his sweats, Josh lets them bunch around his waist, a hand finding his dick; he starts to stroke himself gently. “To be honest, bro. I’m surprised at your lack of protest. It’s like you’re looking forward to this.”

There’s no acceptable answer Chris can give. He doesn’t want to think about what Josh might do if he tries to back out now. “You’re so fucking crazy.”

Josh smirks, and takes Chris’ free hand again, leading it to his exposed cock. Chris closes his eyes again as his fingers wrap around the shaft, letting Josh guide his movements as he rocks into his hand. He starts to build a slow rhythm, feeling his way, as Chris stays perfectly still, conscious solely of what he can feel against his skin and the quiet, hitched breaths of his best friend.

A soft groan spills from Josh’s lips as he pushes faster into Chris’ fingers. It shouldn’t make Chris shiver, but it does. It’s the purest sound he’s ever heard from Josh’s mouth; he bites his lip, and finds his hand moving without guidance as Josh let’s go of his wrist. He closes his fist a little tighter, feeling the hot flesh burning his palm.

This time when he looks, Josh isn’t staring at him - instead his head is lulling, his mouth hanging open just a little. He’s silhouetted in the spotlight illuminating the table, but Chris can still make out the way he licks his lips, the bobbing of his throat; he’s gripping Chris’ sleeve like he’s going to fall apart. Chris watches him intently, unable to take his eyes from this strange, innocent look on the face of the boy he thought he knew so well; it’s a side of Josh he’s never ever seen.

_And I kinda like it._

He twists his palm, trying to get more comfortable. Maybe this can be over quickly, if he can get Josh off. He jerks a little faster, trying to think about what he enjoys, and concentrating on the little noises he’s eliciting from his friend. His thumb brushes the tip and finds it warm and wet, and Chris knows he’s doing a good job.

“Come on,” he mumbles softly.

Watching Josh’s face intently, Chris doesn’t notice the hand creeping towards his own crotch until Josh’s hand is pressed firmly against the thick denim, the heel of his palm rubbing circles into the fabric. Chris’ hips buck up to the touch, a smirk spreading across Josh’s lips. “You like that, huh?”

“Shut-” Chris starts, his head falling back against the wooden chair as Josh squeezes softly. “-up.”

Josh leans forwards to capture his lips as he starts to pop open his fly, his hand weaselling it’s way inside to grasp clumsily at hot flesh and dusty blonde curls. Chris doesn’t fight the kiss, accepting his chapped lips in the heat of the moment as an alternative to letting out a single of the inexcusable sounds threatening to leave his throat. They sit in their awkward embrace, hands moving roughly against each other, until Chris can’t keep up the rhythm of his hand, Josh’s touch leaving him dizzy with pleasure.

He’s so close; it’s almost over, he thinks, his uncoordinated strokes on Josh’s cock still pushing the older boy towards the edge. Josh prys his lips away, leaving Chris’ mouth bruised and red from the kiss. He stills his hand, leaning in to his ear.

“Not until I fuck you.”

Tensing up again instantly, Chris finally becomes aware once more of his bound wrist, now twisted in the plastic tie from where he’s gripped the chair arm. He winces, dreading what Josh has planned.

Starting with his own sweats, Josh strips them both of their bottom layers, Chris’ pants pooling around his ankles and his jacket open, two hands wandering under his t-shirt. They claw at his sides, Josh’s sharp nails raking down his thighs, leaving thin streaks of red in their wake and Chris writhing at the touch.

“Josh, come on. I-” Chris pleads, pushing Josh’s hands away gently. “I don’t wanna do this.”

Wild eyes stare down at him, and to his surprise, Josh has nothing to say. He wraps his fingers around Chris’ cock again, sinking to his knees and taking it into his mouth. Chris can’t find any more words of denial; he bites his hand to drown a wanton moan that slips through his lips as Josh swallows him, tongue swirling around his shaft.

Then, Josh is up again, back in his lap. He doesn’t understand at first, but Josh’s legs settle either side of his and his arm is forced around his friend’s waist. Josh mumbles something he doesn’t quite catch, but it sounds like ‘don’t move’, and it’s all he can do to hold him tight and keep him from dropping back onto the floor.

His face, and Chris is sure the rest of his body follows too, flushes red as Josh positions himself over Chris and starts to push down slowly. Chris can feel himself pressed against him, into him, and it’s the tightest heat he’s ever felt in his life. He pants, nails digging into Josh’s back; Josh squirms slightly, clearly more unprepared for what he’s doing than he’s letting on.

Together they move into it, slowly, until Chris is completely buried inside of Josh, their foreheads pressed together, hot, heavy breath mingling between their parted lips; they fall still, clutching each other like the whole world is falling away around them.

“You okay?” Chris murmurs, Josh just managing a nod and a weak groan in response. With the heat enveloping him growing through his loins, up his whole body, clouds in his head, Chris can’t help but shift in his seat. Josh gasps slightly, clutching tight on Chris’ shoulders. “You… sure?”

“Fucking… yes, okay?” Josh grumbles through his teeth, and gently lifts his hips again.

Chris shudders, twisting his hand in the tie to grip the chair arm as tightly as he can. The plastic presses so deep into his skin he hisses a little. “Josh, please…” The older boy snickers breathlessly, before burying his face in Chris’ shoulder as he starts to move in a gentle rhythm.

It’s intense, and Chris finds himself thrusting to meet Josh’s movements, desperate for more friction. Obscenities tumble from his lips but he barely notices, needing to reach the edge. They move together, bucking into the embrace.

Suddenly, at last, the zip tie snaps; letting out a yelp of shock, Chris stops moving completely. The plastic has ripped into his arm from the struggle, drops of blood forming around abused skin of his wrist. Josh, still clutching at his shoulders with one arm, reaches for him hesitantly, pulls Chris’ wrist closer, until it’s level with his face.

He presses his lips to the sore skin, rolling his hips into Chris’ as his tongue darts out to taste the blood.

Chris shudders, transfixed on Josh’s mouth. He jerks up involuntarily as he watches the pink tongue slide across his arm, blood smearing over Josh’s lips and chin.

“Fuck, Josh…”

“We are,” Josh smirks, but his voice is husky, thick with lust. Chris gulps, pulling his hand away from Josh’s burning touch and sinking into his dark curls. He pulls their lips together, tasting his own blood as he starts to move again.

They’re both close, the stop and start teasing them towards the edge. Chris can tell by the way Josh trembles, tightens around him, and he can feel the heat pooling in his own groin, his breath growing ragged and his thrusts unsteady. Hot moans fall from Josh’s mouth into his own. He’s lost in it. Hungry for Josh’s taste.

He comes first, slamming his hips up desperately as relief finally comes, his heart pounding. Josh falls over the edge soon after, his whole body shaking as he crumples into Chris’ chest, teeth scraping against the exposed skin of his neck. As they hang there, suspended in the wake of their pleasure, Chris absently thinks to himself that it’s over too soon. He wants to stay there, buried in Josh forever and forget about the rest of the night; doesn’t want think about what happened, doesn’t want Josh to walk away from him.

A gentle hand cups his jaw, lifting him into a different sort of kiss. This time it’s softer, more timid. Chris returns it eagerly, sighing into Josh’s mouth. As they part, the feeling lingers, leaving him wanting more.

“Josh…”

“Shhh…"Josh hums, resting against his chest quietly.

Chris’ heartbeat starts to slow, and his thoughts get bleaker. They’re still in the lodge basement, the red light of the camera blinking at them. Outside, Ashley is waiting somewhere, or alerting the others, her face swollen and bloody. Chris realizes for the first time that Josh’s shoulder is still bleeding, and worries his sedation may not just be from pleasure. They’re a mess, his t-shirt sticky and gross, and he’s still deep inside of Josh, only now it’s starting to get uncomfortable. “We should… get up.”

Josh grumbles reluctantly.

“Josh,” He sighs. “You’re bleeding pretty bad.”

“Mmm… don’t feel so great, Cochise.”

They need help.

Carefully, he lifts Josh off of him, and as he suspected, Josh is dizzy, barely standing on his own as the adrenalin ebbs away. Chris helps him steady himself against the table before he pulls his jeans up. He’ll worry about cleaning up later. Zipping his sweater over his messy t-shirt, he helps Josh back into his sweats. “I’ve… I’ve got you, okay? Lean on me.”

His knees are weak, but he takes Josh’s weight. Screw the camera.

Making their way slowly, Chris tries to ignore the evidence in the basement of the cruel joke Josh has played on them. They can deal with that when he’s more conscious, and they will; he’s got a few choice words he wants to use. He helps him back up towards the stairs, and each step is more of a pain than the last.

“Almost there,” He reassures Josh, whose head is lulling against his’ shoulder. “You got a first aid kit somewhere in this manor?”

Josh grumbles again. Chris picks up his pace a little, a strong arm around his friend, finding himself unexpectedly able to lift his full weight out of need alone.  
“Ash,” he calls up the stairs, as they reach the top. A pang of guilt hits him, about getting off with someone so soon after confessing his feelings for her, regardless of the strange circumstances. “Ash? Are you up here? I think we need to-”

Sam, Mike and Ashley are sat in the main hall, but something’s wrong. He can feel it in the air.

Ashley’s cuddled tight into Sam’s embrace, and her shoulders are shaking; it takes him a moment, but Chris realizes she’s crying. Sam strokes her cheek, casting an eye up at Chris and Josh.

Mike’s got his head in his hands. He’s filthy, and Chris can see bandages around his fingers.

“Guys…?” he asks, voice catching in his throat. Josh starts to slip out of his grasp and he has to put his back into holding him up. He can’t process what he’s looking at. He doesn’t want to believe it’s part of Josh’s prank, but anything else would only be worse. “What’s going on-”

“There he fucking is,” Mike growls, getting up off the couch with purpose. He has to steady himself. He’s a complete mess, scratches and bruises all up his neck and face. His eyes narrow, focused on Josh.

Chris worries at his lip, touching his glasses anxiously. “Guys, what the hell happened?”

Her hand over her mouth, Ashley muffles a feeble sob. Sam shakes her head, unable to find the words.

“You,” Mike points an accusing finger at Josh, who barely lifts his head. “You fucking killed her.”

“What?” Chris responds in Josh’s place.

“Jessica is _dead_.”

His mind fogs over again. He can’t comprehend Mike’s words, even with what he’s seen Josh do that night. He looks at the feeble boy hanging off his arm.

Weakly, Josh shakes his head, mumbling almost inaudibly. “No… not me…”

“I saw you,” Mike insists, spitting venom in his words. Chris gulps hard. Josh’s weight starts to become heavy on Chris’ arm, and he grips tighter, because he suddenly feels like letting go would mean losing Josh forever.

He thinks of the roar of the saw blades coming down at them, the sound like thunder in his ears. Thinks of Josh taking off that mask, that crazy glint in his eyes as he shoved his hands down Ashley’s top.

Thinks of their lips coming together. The heat of Josh’s breath on his neck. Their haphazard embrace, the feeling of never wanting it to end.

“No,” he says firmly. Nods resolutely. For the second time that night, he makes a decision he’s more sure of than anything else he’s done with his life. He pulls him closer, until they’re pressed close together. “There’s got to be another explanation, Mike. We’ll figure it out - please - just help him.”

They stand facing each other across the room, a western showdown, neither wanting to give up first; Mike’s teeth grind together, glaring at them like a caged animal. Eventually, he caves, hanging his head in defeat. “Bring him here. Lay him down.”

As Chris drags him over to the couch, Josh’s feet hardly taking steps, he hopes he’s made the right decision.


End file.
